


Take Me to Church

by princessgrouch



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst with a Happy Ending, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-08
Updated: 2017-04-08
Packaged: 2018-10-16 09:20:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,734
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10568325
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessgrouch/pseuds/princessgrouch
Summary: Teens Arthur and Merlin are trying to keep their relationship a secret.  You know that never works out.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hozier's song goes this way, in my mind.

Today it was all coming to an end, the exhilarating stolen moments, the secret meet-ups. This THING, this feeling of grasping at a delight, a fanciful forbidden dream of joy and belonging to someone. It’s over.

It’s been two years. Arthur had dragged Merlin along when he hung around after football practice one day. Arthur smacked his arm jovially, before tugging him down the hill to the old pumping station hidden a ways through the tangled trees. Disused, overgrown with vines, a large concrete block of a building. Arthur showed him where the older kids climbed up the side, using rusty bolts and jagged juts of stone as footholds, as handholds. Then, as they rolled somewhat sweaty and dirty onto the flat roof, laughing at each other, grabbing for a different kind of handhold. A stolen kiss. Arthur blinked at him smilingly as he pulled slowly back, satisfaction oozing out of him.

They went back many, many times.

It was simple enough to hear if anyone else was coming, the gravel on the path quite noisy, and the climb definitely worthy of gasps and expletives. Even scrawny Merlin, with his long limbs and scant weight, who climbed like a monkey, would howl out loud with every scraped elbow or bruised shin. Arthur would kiss it better at the top, ruffling his hair and calling him a big baby, affection in his every touch, in every press of his lips.

When Arthur climbed, it was all grunts and “One, Two, THREE,” heaves up and over the edge. Seriously, he sounded like a freight train, puffing and blowing out his breath. Then Merlin would demonstrate another type of blowing, and Arthur would be out of breath and gasping again.

Really, no one suspected. The two barely glanced at each other in the hallways, never sat together in class, ignored each other at lunch time. If Arthur bumped into Merlin as he passed him by, who was to know it meant anything? Or perhaps Merlin would drop his books coming into history class, and everyone would laugh at him, even as he laughed at himself. No one thought anything of it. Then, when school was out, they would make their separate ways to the old pump house. They would whisper out words of love, shyly at first, then with bold proclamation, and promised each other forever. One day they would move far away, and maybe have a small farm, live peacefully and happily as one flesh.

Wasn’t going to happen. Was never going to play out that way. Not in THIS community, not with the attitudes towards homosexuality that were so prevalent, so ingrained in the people here.

See, there were eyes on them all along. First, young Mordred, who followed them that initial day. He saw them ascend the rugged building back in the woods. He told two friends. Who told two friends. And so on.

The whispers and speculations spread, though there was no proof. Arthur’s football buddies made a big deal of him as he rose in skill and fame in their ranks. Gwaine and Leon, Cenred and Valiant. They were particularly vigilant. They watched for him to let something slip, something they could pin him with, nail him for. They WANTED to have him confess, even better than catching him in the act. So there was always a crowd swirling around him. He was POPULAR. Girls threw themselves practically at his feet, to gauge his reaction.

He never bit.

Said he was too busy, his father wouldn’t want him distracted from his studies, he didn’t care for Elena’s rough edges or Vivian’s shrill laugh. Sophia was a real bitch, and Lamia freaked him out. Mithian and Gwen were nice enough, but the timing wasn’t right.

Merlin’s friends were all goody-goodies. Lance and Percival were so heroic, so honorable. So trustworthy, you’d think Merlin would confide in them. Morgana and the aforementioned Gwen spearheaded campaigns to save forests, and fluffy creatures, and rivers and lakes. Merlin worked side by side with them. But he never told them who held his heart. He kept his own counsel, guarded his secret.

Arthur’s father watched his son, kept track of the hours after school on week days, and the full, long weekend days, when Arthur would disappear; said he was going to hang out with mates at the diner down town, or play video games at somebody or other’s house. Arthur’s friends hadn’t seen him those days.

The weeks in the summer when Arthur opted to stay home and take a part time job at the local coffee shop rather than accompany his father on trips to Japan or France. Uther speculated, at first incredulous that his son, his one and only son, knowing, KNOWING how his father felt about gay people, would choose to do this: to hide, to lie. But the evidence was piling up.

Uther Pendragon dourly made contact with Hunith Emrys. She was surprised at what he told her. Hunith had merely been glad her son had such a busy social life, and as long as his marks were kept up, she hadn’t pried. But if her son was gay, and had hidden this from her? At first she tried to deny it. Not possible, she knew her dear son, he was a good boy, a lovely boy. Uther nodded, he felt the same about Arthur.

A week later, Hunith was phoning Uther. She could see it now, the furtive glances behind him whenever Merlin left the house to “just go for a walk”. She took a step further: she rifled through his backpack one evening (a violation of privacy she had sworn she would never do), and found certain ’items’, and a few illustrated pages printed out from a particular website of a “how to” variety.

It had come to this.

The cool evening air was pleasant on his face, the sun just beginning to set this early September evening. He was on his way to see Arthur, the anticipation building inside him making him giddy. Merlin’s gasp was startled out of him when two older boys, Leon and Valiant, stepped out onto the path in front of him. Their arms were folded sternly across their chests.

“Going somewhere?” Valiant asked archly. Leon raised his eyebrows expectantly, face emotionless. 

Merlin turned to go back, but Gwaine and Percival had appeared silently behind him. Merlin gulped, but then figured a bluff should work fine. No one knew about him and Arthur. This couldn’t be about that.

"Hey, how's it going?" Merlin smiled his most innocent smile. "I'm just out looking for fireflies."

“You thought we didn’t know?” Gwaine spoke sharply. “You and Arthur? It’s so obvious. You’re not very good liars, are you? Well, we’ve decided to put an end to it. Now! Take him, boys!”

Valiant got him by one arm, Percival by the other. He dragged his feet, but it made no difference, Merlin was going to go where they wanted him to go. The darkening sky made the shadows in the woods eerie and haunting, and Merlin yelped out in panic.

“Yeah, go ahead, make lots of noise!” Leon chided. “And who do you think will come running? Arthur, eh? Let’s see if he will.” Merlin struggled, but the strong young men forcing him along were not inconvenienced in the least.

Arthur was atop the grey weathered concrete structure, awaiting his true love, when he heard the commotion. Peering through the dense trees, he could see nothing, but then he heard Merlin call out sharply. Next thing he was scrambling down the side of the building, heart in his throat. He knew what this meant, clearly, sickeningly. Someone had found them out. Nothing would ever be the same again. Innocence, their little cocoon, ripped away. Exposed. As he had always secretly feared, his private sacred trysts were being laid bare.

The death of that magical realm choked him, as he crashed through the woods. Could he rescue Merlin from their clutches? He could hear the voices now, Valiant, and Leon surely? Others, that was Gwaine’s bellow. (Merlin had inadvertently kicked him in the shin as he flailed about.) He broke through the underbrush, recognizing vaguely that this was the back fields of the old Avalon Church, it’s tower standing out sharply against the fading orange sunset. Stopping to take in the scene before him, shock, disbelief, denial even, paralyzing him momentarily.

A huge bonfire, flames licking and sparking at the sky. Shadowy figures moving around it, good god, it looked like the whole town, around someONE. His someone. His Merlin.

Just as Arthur was about to shout, to charge into the chaos, he was spotted. A dozen people surged towards him, and he sucked in his breath in anticipation. His father. His father was there, this was IT. Even the girls were here. Morgana, reaching up, placing, putting a what? Was that a bloody CROWN? On his head.

Hands, grabbing, pulling, insistent. He was brought to Merlin’s side, a similar crown decking his fluffed up hair. Merlin grinning goofily. Someone, Lance, pressed a beer into Arthur’s hand.

“Welcome to the party,” Gwen lifted up on her tip toes to kiss his cheek. 

“Your coming out party, mate!” That was Gwaine, slapping him on the back with no regard to the contents of his beer bottle.

Merlin’s mum was giving Arthur’s arm a squeeze. “Silly boys, thinking you could keep this from us,” she scolded, reaching up to pat his cheek. “Such dears!”

One after another, they all came up to the royal couple, offering their congratulations, affirmations, salacious advice (on the part of most of the football team), and loads of hugs. Uther Pendragon shushed them all, and raised a toast.

“To Arthur, and to Merlin: many happy years together,” he said, cheers quickly drowning him out. He leaned in and spoke directly to the boys. “And no more hiding. You should be proud of who you love.”

Merlin blew out a breath, as he contemplated his new reality. Their carefully guarded world, pretending to get away with something, sneaking, hiding, like secret agents. That was all gone now. Guess he shouldn’t get his hopes up for being a spy. Running off to be farmers somewhere obscure? Not likely, knowing his mom. He smiled happily at Arthur as he linked their fingers together. He supposed he could tough it out.

**Author's Note:**

> I want everyone to live in a world where they are celebrated. So I thought I'd throw a surprise party, Merthur style!


End file.
